Cursed Bread

by Sophie Mackintosh

perhaps the sordid can be as transformative as the divine if it goes far enough.

I did ask him but he said he couldn’t remember, which seemed incredible, because I remembered the litany of my body’s features and functions with excruciating detail from the age of twelve onwards, as if a spotlight had suddenly been trained on me.

I do believe there is an involuntary intimacy in doing the worst possible thing to somebody you love, the exquisite, weightless feeling of pulling out one of the little pins in my stomach and sliding it carefully back in.